The sea, the sea

When it's hot out, I stand at the bus stop and close my eyes and imagine diving down deep, seaweed tickling the back of my knees, salt water all around me. Later this summer, I'm bailing on Toronto's soupy days to go home, where land meets water. When I'm by the sea, I never fail to wish I could stay underwater, that I could live down there, waterlogged and in that perpetual green twilight. And it's all these thoughts that keep me cool as the city pulses with that dense, syrupy heat.